


Come Back Home

by halfsweet



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8975560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: He can't remember anything after that. But one thing he does remember, though, is how Patrick walked out the door with a luggage behind him.
  "I love you, Brendon, but I can't do this anymore. Either you get help, or I'm leaving."

  "Go ahead! No one's stopping you!"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anybody remember the Christmas fic last year where Brendon was stuck pining after his roommate and then the New Year fic where Brendon was one second too late haha good times *wipes tears*
> 
> Anyway, here you go! I planned to write something fluffy and funny like Brendon's birthday fic, but then I listened to Zayn's new song with Taylor Swift and this happened (I know the song is for 50 Shades, but gdi that song is catchy af) so, this fic is inspired by the song
> 
> Hope you like this one! Enjoy!

It's been exactly 72 hours since Patrick last walked out the door. Brendon doesn't know how it began. Doesn't remember how it began. Though, he has blurry memory of what went down between them.

It was late at night, that he remembers clearly. He just got back from the bar with his friends, celebrating something, and one of his friends offered to pay for all the drinks. So, everyone ordered drinks after drinks, glasses after glasses, shots after shots, and by the end of the night, everyone was hammered. Him included.

And when he got back to his apartment, the very one he shared with Patrick, his boyfriend was already waiting in the living room. It was dark; the moonlight entering through the window, shadows ghosting over Patrick's face. The older man was asking him something, and he forgot what he answered, but it clearly ticked Patrick off. One thing lead to another, and suddenly they were both shouting and screaming at each other until their faces turned red.

He can't remember anything after that. But one thing he does remember, though, is how Patrick walked out the door with a luggage behind him.

_"I love you, Brendon, but I can't do this anymore. Either you get help, or I'm leaving."_

_"Go ahead! No one's stopping you!"_

Now, sitting on the kitchen floor with his phone in his hand and bottles of liquor scattered near him, Brendon thumps his head back against the cabinet, staring up at the ceiling with stinging red eyes.

"I'm sorry..."

-

It's not like he's in an abusive relationship, no. Patrick knows the fine line between a healthy and an unhealthy relationship, and what he has - _had_ \- with Brendon was healthy, really.

But what he had with _drunk_ Brendon is a whole different story.

Sober or drunk, Brendon has never laid a hand on him, never even raised his hand, never hit him no matter how much they argue, no matter how short-tempered both of them are. But sometimes, words hurt more than punches and kicks.

There was a time when he wished drunk Brendon would just hit him rather than slur insults to him.

He pulls the jacket tighter to his chest, breathing out a small puff of air against the falling snow. It doesn't matter now. He's free from the all the exhaustion his relationship with Brendon gave him.

Feeling a vibration in the pocket of his pants, he takes his phone out, finding Brendon's name on the screen.

Without a second of hesitation, he rejects the call before shoving the phone back in his pocket and continues walking through the crowded street, ignoring the heaviness in his stomach and the clench in his heart.

 _It's past midnight. It's_ way _past midnight, and Brendon still wasn't home. This was exactly why he hated it when Brendon went to the bar. Brendon would drown as many liquors as he could until he blacked out, and if he didn't, then Patrick had no choice but to deal with him. And his words._

 _The front door creaked open, and Patrick stood up from the couch, his eyes catching sight of his drunken boyfriend._ Here we go.

_"Brendon, do you know what time it is?" He asked, arms crossed tight against his chest. Brendon quirked an eyebrow at him. "What's the matter? You lost your watch?"_

_Patrick clenched his jaw as his fingernails dug deep into his skin._ Deep breath. Don't lose your temper.  _"It's almost three in the fucking morning, Brendon."_

_"Well, gee, congratulations. You know the time." Brendon rolled his eyes as he staggered to make his way to the kitchen. "Want me to get you a fucking present?"_

_"You are seriously testing my patience here." Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose and followed Brendon to the kitchen, his eyes narrowing when the taller man opened the cabinet that held all the liquor. He strode towards him and slammed the cabinet door shut._

_"What the fuck was that for?!" Brendon yelled out before shoving Patrick away to open the cabinet again. "Get the fuck out of my way, idiot."_

_Anger started to ignite in Patrick's chest. He kept telling himself that Brendon didn't actually mean that, but as the years passed by, he found it harder and harder to believe. The worst part was that Brendon wouldn't even remember a single word that he said when he woke up the next day. "Are you seriously going to drink again?"_

_Brendon grabbed a liquor bottle out, but Patrick took it from him before he got to open it. "Hey! Give that back, fucker!"_

_"Go to bed, Brendon," Patrick said, trying his best not to explode. Brendon mocked what he said in a high-pitched voice, and Patrick gritted his teeth, furious. "Bed, now."_

_"What are you? My mother?" Brendon sneered, hand reaching out for the bottle, but Patrick held it out of reach. "What the fuck is your problem?! I bought that shit, I deserve to drink it! You can't do jackshit!"_

_His fingers gripped tight around the neck of the bottle, and he walked to the sink, opening the bottle and pouring the content into the sink._

_"You fucking asshole!" Brendon gripped his wrist so tight that he let go of the bottle, too surprised at the sudden force to notice it clanking inside the sink. "Who the fuck told you you can do that?! Useless shit-"_

_"You wanna know who's useless?" Patrick seethed as he snatched his hand back. "You! You can't even go through a day without a drink! You're too dependent on alcohol!"_

_"At least they're better than you! They don't nag around like you do! You're so fucking bossy and controlling!"_

_Patrick shoved him back when Brendon got closer, his breath tainted with alcohol. "You-"_

_"No, I've had enough of your shit!" Brendon cut him off and spat on the floor, his voice dripping poison with each word. "You always think you're so good, so fucking pure, can't do anything wrong, but you're_ nothing _. You're pathetic. Your self-esteem is shit. I don't even know why I got fucking together with you."_

_Patrick clenched his fists by his sides, his heart feeling like it just got stabbed and twisted again and again. "Shut up."_

_Brendon's lips curled into a smirk. "You're a good fuck. I'll give you credit for that."_

_Deep breath. Deep breath._  Deep breath. _"You need help, Brendon."_

_The smirk instantly transformed into a scowl. "I don't need any help!"_

_He hated this. God, he hated drunk Brendon. He fucking_  loathed _him, and there's only so much he can take before he reached his limit. And that night, Brendon just crossed it. "I love you, Brendon, but I can't do this anymore. Either you get help, or I'm leaving."_

_"Go ahead! No one's stopping you!"_

_Patrick's eyes widen at his words, and they started to prickle with hot tears. "B- Brendon, I-"_

_"Go!" Brendon shouted. "I don't need you! Pack your stuffs and get the fuck out! I don't care!"_

_It felt like everything just stopped. The time. His heart. Everything. They only moved again when he felt two wet trails on his face. He rubbed his eyes and pushed Brendon to the side, making his way to the bedroom and taking out his luggage. He grabbed all his clothes, not at all bothered to fold them, and threw them all inside the luggage. He mentally cursed when he forgot which clothes belong to whom. He'd been wearing Brendon's clothes too many times that he mixed them up. He just grabbed what he remembered was his and left none of his stuff behind, never wanting to step his foot into that place ever again._

_When he stepped out of the bedroom, Brendon was already seated on the sofa in the living room, a new and opened bottle of liquor in his hand. The dark haired man lazily threw his head back to stare at him. "What? You want me to hold the door open for you, Your Highness?"_

_His whole body burned with fury. He'd never miss Brendon. Not after what happened. Instead of answering him, Patrick dropped the spare key on the table and opened the door. He glanced back to look at the other man, but Brendon had already returned to his drinking._

_Patrick walked out the door without any regret that night._

-

 _To: Patrick_  
_06:15:55_  
_I'm sorry. Please come back, trick_

 _To: Patrick_  
_12:23:32_  
_I love you_

 _To: Patrick_  
_23:54:10_  
_ill quit drinkingi promise justc ome back homplease imiss you im sorry i loveyou_

Those are the last three messages he sent to Patrick a couple of weeks ago. It's been two months.

Two months since Patrick left him. Two months since he went to bed drunk and heartbroken. Two months since he slept alone, lived alone.

He sighs as he slouches forward on the couch, grabbing a half-empty bottle of vodka before downing a large gulp in one go. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and places the bottle back on the coffee table, then makes his way to the bedroom, staggering and disoriented.

He lies on Patrick's side of bed, the comforting scent long disappeared and replaced by his own, and he closes his eyes, fingers bunched around the fabric of his sweater.

_"Bren." Patrick giggled and batted Brendon's wandering hand away. "C'mon, we just finished. I need a break to catch my breath."_

_Brendon hummed against the skin on his neck, smiling, and he rested his hand on the sweater Patrick's wearing. "Can't help it. You look good in my clothes."_

_Patrick laughed, warm and pleasant, and it made Brendon's heart flutter every time he heard it. He closed his eyes and reveled in the sweet sound of his boyfriend's laughter. It never failed to make him feel at ease. "I love you."_

_"Love you too, B." He could hear the smile in Patrick's words, and he tilted his head slightly, kissing him softly on the mouth. Patrick parted his lips almost immediately, fingers running through Brendon's dark hair. Brendon loved moments like this; everything was slow and quiet and peaceful and perfect. He could live in this moment forever._

_They pulled apart when Patrick giggled into the kiss. "B! That tickles!"_

_Brendon grinned as he continued to poke his boyfriend's side, watching in amusement when the older man squirmed around to get him to stop tickling and tried to stifle his laughter. Patrick ended up placing his hands over Brendon's face, all sweater paws from Brendon's large sweater, and shoved him away playfully. "No round two if you keep doing that," he said sternly, but there's a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips._

_Brendon held both his wrists, his eyes drawn to the sweater paws, and he couldn't help smiling at how adorable his boyfriend looked at the moment. "You're adorable, you know that?"_

_"Must be your sweater. It's really comfy, you know that?"_

_Humming, Brendon pinned the blond's wrists above his head and rested his forehead against his. "Nah. It's all you, babe." He connected their lips together, nothing heavy at first, just a gentle brush before he pressed harder, biting down on the plump lip and deepening the kiss._

_"What? Round two already?" Patrick teased when they pulled away for air, panting, and it drew a small chuckle out of Brendon. The younger man leaned in to kiss him again, chaste, before moving up to kiss his forehead, his lips lingering as he felt Patrick's shuddering breath against his bare chest. "Brendon?"_

_He pulled back and cupped Patrick's face, the other's eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation and affection. Trust. Love. God, he loved this man so much, how was he so lucky to have him in his life?_

_His thumbs caressed his cheeks, and he leaned in, capturing Patrick's soft lips between his. Patrick's hands slid up his back before resting on his shoulder blades, pulling him close. There's nowhere Brendon would rather be other than in Patrick's arms._

_He went slow and gentle on Patrick this time, intending to give the older man nothing but pleasure. And when they're done, as he gazed at Patrick's sleepy and satiated smile, he made a promise to himself to give Patrick all the happiness in the world, from every second of the day until the day his last breath left him._

-

Brendon has stopped texting and calling him for two months now, and Patrick knows he should be happy about it, but he doesn't. Not at all. Even after five months, even after the final argument that led them to their split, he still misses the younger man. He tries to forget Brendon, tries busying himself with his job, tries going on dates, but nothing works.

Brendon is always there at the back of his mind and deep in his heart. And he can't just forget two years worth of their relationship in mere months.

That night, his friend sets him up on a blind date with someone, and the guy is nice, friendly, funny. He listens to what Patrick says, only offering opinions when asked. In short, he's a complete gentleman. He'd be so lucky to have someone like him.  
  
But the only problem is, he's not Brendon.

He lets out a small sigh. There he goes again, thinking about his ex when he should be enjoying this date. He does wonder sometimes - _all_ the time - whether Brendon has moved on from him or not. Whether Brendon is still drinking. Whether Brendon already has someone new.

Whether Brendon has already forgotten about him.

His chest pangs with something he can't describe at the thought of his ex going on a date with someone- smiling, laughing, holding hands, kissing. Sleeping on the same bed. Sleeping on _his_ side of bed.

He shakes his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts, and is glad that his date doesn't seem to notice a thing. After they pay the bill and walk out of the restaurant, Patrick goes straight to his car, wanting to just slip under the sheets and block out all the thoughts away.

Before he can turn on his heels, his date - was it Parker? Peter? Pete? - stops him by catching his elbow, looking red and nervous. When he leans forward, Patrick bites his lip and turns his head to the side so he's kissing his cheek. He pretends he doesn't see the slight hurt reflected in Pete's eyes, but the guy continues to smile nevertheless. "I had a really great time tonight. Maybe we can, um, do it again? If you want to, that is."

Pete's a really sweet guy, and Patrick hates that he's still thinking about Brendon. "Sure. I'd like that."

Even if they don't work out, Patrick is sure that Pete would be a great friend.

-

"I'm not sure about this, Spence." Brendon murmurs to his friend as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces in the room. They're all either chattering with the person next to them or playing with their phones, not talking to anyone. "I don't know anyone here."

Spencer turns to him and places a hand on his back comfortingly. "You'll be fine, Brendon. I'm here with you."

"I just-" Brendon pauses to rub his arms when he feels his skin raise with goosebumps, "-this is the first time that I-"

He presses his lips together and looks down at his shoes. Spencer sighs next to him. "I know. I've been there, and you were with me the entire time. So, let me do the same for you."

Brendon doesn't say anything else as everyone begins to sit down in a circle in the middle of the room. Spencer nudges him to take a seat, and he sits between his friend and a young woman. One person in the circle clears his throat, and the room settles into a silence.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming to our meeting today. Before we start our meeting, I would like to give a warm and special welcome to new attendees." The person smiles and relaxes in his seat as he looks at everyone. Brendon gulps when his eyes land on him, and he instinctively reaches for Spencer's hand, who squeezes in return. "Please introduce yourself- just your first name is enough."

Brendon flicks his gaze to Spencer nervously, and his friend gives him an encouraging smile. "Just say like what we've rehearsed."

Butterflies swarm in his guts, and he takes a deep breath before standing up, cold sweat breaking from everyone's attention on him.

"I'm Brendon, and I'm an alcoholic."

-

He and Pete doesn't work out. Pete noticed that he'd stare off into space sometimes and glance at his phone as if waiting for a certain phone call or text. When Pete confronted him, Patrick knew he couldn't keep leading him on when all he can think about is a certain someone else with dark hair and brown eyes that outshine the sun when they're excited.

So, he came clean.

He told Pete everything about Brendon: from how they met to how they broke up, everything up before Pete came into the picture. Pete was surprisingly understanding, and he comforted him the entire time.

Patrick knew Pete would be a great friend, and he still is.

He holds a cup of hot chocolate near his face, letting the steam warm him up. In front of him stands a large Christmas tree, elegantly decorated with gold and silver baubles, assorted tinsels and other colourful ornaments, and at the very top of the tree, a lit silver star sits on it.

He takes a sip of his beverage and continues to gaze up at the Christmas tree in the middle of the park.

_"You know," Brendon started, and Patrick tilted his head up to look at him, "this has always been my favourite part of Christmas."_

_Patrick placed the almost empty box of Christmas tree decorations on the floor and leaned back on his hand, staring up at Brendon who's looking for a spot to hang a red bauble on the tree. "What? Decorating Christmas trees?"_

_Brendon hummed in affirmation as he hung the ornament, then held his hand out to Patrick. Patrick smiled and grabbed a silver snowflake, handing it to him and admiring the content expression his boyfriend had on his face. "More than opening presents?"_

_"To be honest, yeah." Brendon smiled, and at that moment, Patrick couldn't help but think how peaceful Brendon looked. He wanted to see Brendon like this all the time._

_"Opening presents- I mean, there's this kind of, I don't know, pressure? Everyone's watching your reaction. What if you don't like the present?"_

_"Pretend that you like them?" Patrick supplied as he handed Brendon another decoration. This time, a snowman._

_"People can catch your reaction, no matter how fast you try to hide it." Brendon replied. "That's just it, I guess. I don't like the pressure. But when you're decorating_ _trees, no one really pays attention to you."_

_He bent down to grab an angel and placed it carefully on top of the tree. "No anxiety there. That's why I like it."_

_"I'm paying attention to you." Patrick countered. "Watching you decorate this tree."_

_"Well, yeah," Brendon agreed, "but you make the anxiety go away."_

_Patrick's face instantly softened hearing his answer. He knew all about Brendon's anxiety. He might seem like an outgoing guy when he first met him, but as they got to know more about each other, he learned everything about his fears, and it warmed his heart knowing that Brendon trusted him enough to share his secrets._

_He stood up from his position on the floor and kissed Brendon on the cheek, then turned to look at the tree. "It's beautiful, B."_

_A pair of arms snaked around his waist, pulling him back to the hard chest behind him. Patrick leaned into the embrace and placed his hand on Brendon's as Brendon rested his chin on top of his head. "You know, you should be sitting on top of the tree, 'cause you're the most beautiful angel ever existed."_

_Patrick laughed at the pick-up line. It's so sweet it's terrible. He turned his head to the side and pressed his lips against the taller man's neck, feeling the fluttering pulse under the skin, and grinned. "I'd rather sit on something else."_

_Brendon's chest rumbled with laughter, and the arms around him squeezed him tight. "Oh, babe, I'm so gonna take that offer tonight."_

_Patrick turned around in Brendon's arms and slid his hands up the younger man's chest and around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss._

_"Merry Christmas." Brendon murmured into the kiss. Patrick smiled and looked up at him. "It's not Christmas yet, B."_

_Brendon gave a low chuckle and kissed him again. "Merry Christmas Eve then."_

_Patrick hummed, pulling away from the kiss. "It's not Christmas Eve yet, either."_

_He laughed softly when Brendon whined, chasing his mouth back to meet with his. He ran his fingers through the soft, dark hair, pulling the taller man down again as he stood on his toes, their kiss deepening with each passing second. "I love you, B."_

_"Love you too, Trick."_

Patrick raises his hand to rub at his eye when it starts to sting. The cold weather is hell for his dry eyes, though, deep down inside him, he knows that's not the reason. He turns away from the tree and starts walking, the hot chocolate has now become lukewarm.

It's almost a year since his split with Brendon, and he wonders what the other man is up to nowadays. He feels bad - regrets - for not returning all his calls and texts. He regrets making decision out of anger and leaving Brendon when he was drunk, when he clearly had no idea what happened when he woke up the next morning. God, he should have discussed about Brendon's drinking problem when Brendon's _sober_ , not _drunk_.

He can't help thinking how Brendon must had felt the next morning. Hungover and confused. Hurt. Alone.

He drinks the hot chocolate in an attempt to drown out the ache in his throat. He really screwed this one up. There's no way he can make up for all the pain and guilt for the past year. Sighing, he throws the empty cup in the trash can on the street and hails for a cab.

"Where to, Sir?" The driver asks, glancing at him from the rear-view mirror. Patrick licks his chapped lips and tells him the address. He looks out the window, watching the passing vehicles and buildings, and touches the old scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.

-

Brendon reaches for the remote and turns the television off, then throws his head back against the couch. It's quiet in the apartment now, a little chilly, but he's gotten used to it. His gaze falls on the window, and he stares at the snow falling from the sky and down to the roof of other buildings and cars and to the streets below, then he looks around the apartment, his chest tightening at the lack of colourfully decorated Christmas tree.

He's stopped contacting Patrick months back when he finally accepted the fact Patrick wouldn't answer any of them. To this date, he doesn't even know what the argument was about, but the shouting- _God, the shouting._

_"Go ahead! No one's stopping you!"_

God, why did he say that? He heard what Patrick said, okay, loud and clear, and he was partially sober halfway through the fight, so _why the fuck did he say that?_

He scrubs his hand over his face and stands up to go to the kitchen. No use regretting what's already happened. What's done is done.

He takes out a bottle of water from the fridge and leans against the counter behind him, then reaches into his pocket for his wallet. When he opens it, a small smile touches his lips at the sight of a blue plastic poker chip. He holds it in his hand, flipping it between his fingers.

Just before he can take a sip of his drink, two consecutive knocks on the door catch his attention. He puts the bottle down on the counter, along with his wallet, but keeps the chip in his hand. Is it Spencer? But he could've sworn Spencer told him that he's going to celebrate with his family.

Maybe his flight just got delayed.

Brendon shrugs and twists the knob. At least he won't be alone on Christmas.

"Hey-" The rest of his words are caught in his throat when he sees who's in front of him. His heartbeat speeds up, and he can literally _hear_ and _feel_ his heart pounding against his ribcage. "P- Patrick?"

The older man bites his lips and nods shyly, his gaze downcast. "Y- Yeah," he clears his throat when his voice cracks, "um, it's me."

Brendon nods wordlessly, still gaping at the sight of his ex standing in front of his door. Patrick still looks the same, if not more amazing, and from the way he keeps fidgeting, it's obvious that he's, well, dare he say it, _nervous_.

He opens the door wider and steps aside. "Do you want to come in?"

Patrick opens his mouth, then after a few seconds, closes it again. He's still looking down at the floor, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Brendon brushes his thumb over the blue chip for comfort and reaches out for Patrick's hand, pulling him inside the apartment. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Hot chocolate?"

Patrick nods, still not saying anything, _still_ not meeting his eyes, and Brendon sighs. He moves to the kitchen with Patrick following him from behind, and he starts to gather the ingredients for hot chocolate. The whole apartment is filled with the sound of pots clanking, stove being turned on, and the heater humming.

After it's done, he pours into two mugs and serves them on the kitchen island. He turns to look at Patrick, who is playing with the frayed edge of the worn-out scarf around him. His heart warms up at the sight. Patrick's wearing _his_ scarf.

That means Patrick keeps his scarf _the entire time._

He clears his throat, wanting to break the silence between them since Patrick won't say anything. "So, um, how-"

"I don't know why I'm here." Patrick blurts out, interrupting him, and he clutches onto the scarf. "I- I'm sorry. I just- I got into a cab- and- the address- I-"

"Patrick." Brendon calls him, voice soft, and the other stops talking. His gaze softens when Patrick ducks his head, looking smaller than ever. "Sorry. I- I'll just get going now."

"Patrick, wait." Brendon pulls him back by the elbow, stopping him before he can turn away, and his heart flutters at the close proximity between them. He wants to wrap his arms around the smaller man, wants to pull him close, wants to bury himself in his presence, in his scent. He never wants to separate from him again.

"Patrick," Brendon says again, and he turns Patrick around so he's facing him, hands placed gingerly on his hips. When Patrick makes no motion to move, he takes one step closer to him. "I miss you. I haven't seen you in a year, and-"

"I'm sorry." Patrick cuts him off with a whisper. "I'm sorry I left that night. I- I shouldn't- I didn't mean-"

Brendon runs his hands up and down his sides to soothe him. Patrick looks distraught, _is_ distraught, and Brendon just wants to make him feel all better again, but he knows there are boundaries between them now, and he can't cross them. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad."

"Y- You're not?" Patrick lifts his head, something twists in Brendon's heart at how red and wet Patrick's eyes are. Brendon shakes his head and continues to comfort him. "No, but I just wished you would've told me why."

"I- I just- it's-" Patrick bites his lip and holds his scarf, "I just wanted you to stop drinking..."

Brendon's hands fall to his sides, surprised, and he stares at the older man in front of him. He has an inkling that their fight was about his drinking problem, but he shrugged it off, figuring that there's probably another reason. "Patrick..."

"I- I'm sorry, B, I didn't mean-"  
  
Patrick starts to ramble off apologies, hands never once stopping to fiddle with the scarf, but Brendon feels a rush of warmth fill his chest at the nickname. He has no idea how much he misses it, misses _them_ , until Patrick's standing before his eyes.

Spencer had mentioned to him about his drinking problem, so did a couple of their friends, but he ignored all their words. He could hold his liquor, and Patrick was still with him. See? He had no problem. At least, that's what he thought last time. He reaches for Patrick's hands and clasps them between his, bringing them to between their bodies. "Trick, hey. It's okay. You don't need to apologize. You were right to do that."

"But not when you're _drunk_." Patrick counters desperately, guilt taking over his expression. "I kept thinking how you'd feel when you woke up the next morning..."

All the words in every language can't even describe how he felt back then. He just wanted everything to be over. Wanted everything to be one big nightmare so he'd wake up with no hangover and next to Patrick. "Well, I'm fine now. That's all that matters."

The guilt on Patrick's face doesn't disappear, however. Brendon slides his hand into his pocket and takes out the plastic chip. Then, he holds Patrick hand, telling him to open his palm, and places the blue chip in the middle. "I mean it, Trick. You were right to do that. Or else I wouldn't be who I am today."

Patrick brings the chip closer to him, inspecting it, and his eyes widen when he catches the logo. "B..."

"Yeah." Brendon smiles, admiring the chip held between Patrick's fingers as his eyes glint with pride. "Six month sober since last week."

"Brendon, that's- that's amazing." Patrick breathes out as he flips the chip around, reading the words printed on the back. "I'm really happy for you. I mean it."

"It's partly for you, y'know." Brendon confesses, his voice turning small. Patrick looks up at him in surprise, mouth falling open just the slightest. "I just thought that if I'm clean and sober, then maybe- maybe you'd come back, or something. Even as friends or- or strangers, or even acqu-"

He shuts his mouth when he feels a pair of arm wrapped around his waist. Patrick is pressed flushed against him, soft and warm, and Brendon wraps his arms around him, nuzzling the strawberry-blond mop of hair. Patrick still smells the same- vanilla and baby powder and _home_.

"I'm sorry." Come Patrick's voice, muffled by the sweater Brendon's wearing. Brendon tightens his arms around him. "I'm sorry too."

"I miss you."

Butterflies begin to flutter in his stomach. _Patrick misses him._ "I miss you too."

"I-" Patrick sniffles, and his shoulders start to tremble. "I've never stopped, you know."

"Stopped what?" Brendon whispers, one hand gently caressing his back, comforting him. He drops his head on Patrick's shoulder, and that's when he hears the small hitch of breath erupting from the shorter man.

When Patrick speaks, his voice is choked with tears. "I've never stopped loving you."

Brendon closes his eyes as Patrick starts to sob in his arms. Even after a year, Patrick still keeps his clothes. Still wears them. Still misses him. _Loves him._

"I've never stopped loving you too, and I'll never stop," Brendon says gently, his lips brushing the side of Patrick's neck. "I love you, Patrick."

Patrick leans into him, fingers clinging tight onto the back of Brendon's sweater . "I love you, Brendon."

Brendon pulls back to look into Patrick's eyes, glassy with tears, and he cups his face. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Patrick murmurs, a hint of a smile appearing on the corner of his lips, and he tilts his head upwards as Brendon captures his mouth in a kiss. Holding Patrick right at this very second, kissing him and being with him feels like he's just finally woken up from a year-long nightmare to a wonderful reality. It's better than all the dreams he has of Patrick, because this is _real_.

It's not just a dream anymore.

"Fuck, I love you so much," Brendon says once they pull away to catch their breath. Patrick chuckles and loops his arms around Brendon's neck as he takes a look around the apartment. "No Christmas tree?"

Brendon shakes his head. "I'm not celebrating, so..."

"Why not?" Patrick furrows his brows, confused. "You love decorating them. And you love Christmas."

Heat creeps up his neck and face, and Brendon scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. "You're not here, so what's the point?"

"B..." Patrick's expression softens at his answer. "C'mon, let's buy a Christmas tree. I think they still sell them."

Now it's Brendon's turn to look confused, and he's even more confused when Patrick walks out of the kitchen to go to the front door. "Wait, what?"

Patrick stops by the archway, and he cocks his head back to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "I'm here now, aren't I? Let's celebrate together."

A grin slowly spreads on his face, and it only takes a few long strides for him to pull Patrick into a bear hug, lifting him up and spinning him around. The sound of Patrick's giggles float in the air and into his ears, warming up his heart.

He places Patrick back down and pecks him on the cheek before grinning, hand tugging on the scarf around his neck. "Have I ever told you how good you looked wearing my clothes?"

"Have I ever told you how comfy they are?" Patrick grins back, although a small blush has already formed on his cheeks, and, shit, Brendon's heart is going to burst from everything that's been happening in the last half an hour alone. "Do you want to change into my sweater?" He teases him, loving the way the blush blossoms across his pale skin.

"Maybe later tonight." Patrick smiles, just on the side of flirting, and, okay, maybe his heart just exploded. Patrick coming to his apartment, Patrick wearing his scarf, Patrick missing him, Patrick admitting that he still loves him, Patrick going to celebrate Christmas with him, and now, _Patrick staying for the night with him?_

The smile on Patrick's face falters when he takes too long to answer. "I, um, was that too soon? I- I don't know how slow, or- or how fast you wanna go, and- um- I- I'm sorry if it makes you uncomf-"

Brendon cuts him off with a kiss, and Patrick instantly melts into him. He rests both his hands on Patrick's waist, pulling him close and swallowing the soft moans from the other. He pulls back from the kiss and smiles at Patrick's dazed expression. "You want us to get back together?"

"If, um, if it's okay with you." Patrick flushes, and he ducks his head so the scarf covers half of his red face. "It's okay if you don't-"

Brendon kisses him again, just to get him to shut up and just because he can. "I'd love to, babe."

Patrick blushes and smiles at the pet name, and really, for Christmas, Brendon's going to ask for a new heart from just how many times it's already exploded that day.

"Let's go buy a Christmas tree, B."

"Yeah, c'mon." Brendon laces his fingers with Patrick's and goes to grab his keys and jacket. After he puts on his jacket, he turns to see that Patrick has already grabbed a scarf for him. Patrick smiles up at him and winds the scarf around his neck, fixing it into place. "There."

"After you." Brendon opens the door and bows, then laughs when Patrick slaps him playfully on the shoulder. He laces their fingers once again after locking the door, and they make their way out with identical smiles on their faces, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate left forgotten in the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! And happy finals! Leave some comments :)


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